‘I suppose it really is my fault.’
‘Do you mean you are pleading guilty?’
‘No of course not!’
‘Look Reynolds, this has gone on just a little too long. Either you did it or you didn’t.’ The detective sergeant looked sideways at his female, uniformed colleague raising his eyebrows in apparent frustration.
‘What do you mean, it has gone on too long?’ Looking at the clock behind the policeman I said, ‘It is now just gone eleven. You picked me up at half past eight and I’ve been here trying to explain to you that this is a complete mistake. Most of the time has been taken up by me sitting here waiting while you got your act together, if it can be called an act.’
‘So why did you say it must be your fault? The detective flipped through his file and shifted himself in his chair, before looking again at me in such a way as to draw an acceptable response.
‘What I meant was, I should have listened to my wife who always told me to mind my own business and not speak to strangers, particularly school kids.’
‘Where is your wife now? Could she corroborate that advice?’
‘She could if you’ve got someone who is capable of communicating with the dead.'
‘Oh, I apologise I had no idea.’
‘That is becoming quite obvious,’ I allowed myself a wry smile.
Again the detective looked thoroughly irritated. ‘How long is it since she died?’
‘Is this really relevant?’
‘It might be – loneliness can cause people to act in many different ways.’
I leaned forward over the table separating us in order to emphasise my next words. ‘First, who said I was lonely? Secondly if, and I mean if I was, would I molest two whatever-their-age school girls in broad daylight? Do me a favour and give me the benefit of having some intelligence, please.’
‘If you had sat this side of this desk as many years as I have Mr Reynolds nothing would surprise you, believe me.’
It was now the turn of the uniformed woman police constable. ‘Are you suggesting that these two young ladies made all this up? Can you seriously believe that just because you ticked them off for smoking they would go to all this trouble to make up a story like this?’
‘Your colleague here has just gone through telling me that stranger things happen all the time, unless I got the wrong impression. First of all they are not ladies by my understanding of the title lady. They are school-girls probably thirteen or fourteen years old. Not ladies.’
‘Alright, alright.’ It was the turn of the detective to take charge again. ‘You’re right about their ages, give or take, but old enough to know what happened to them. They are both adamant that you sexually assaulted them.’ The detective looked directly into my eyes again and opened both his upturned hands in a manner to suggest his last remark went without question. ‘Tell me, what is your occupation Mr Reynolds?’
‘I assume this, along with being a widower is relevant?
‘It might well be.’
‘Especially, if I was a piccolo player in a Chinese brothel? But sadly I wasn’t. I was a loss adjuster at Barclays until I retired ten years ago.’
‘Why did you visit the public toilets at seven-thirty yesterday morning? You only live about half a mile from there. Wouldn’t you normally use a toilet in your own home?’
‘Normally is an interesting word officer. Can I ask how old you are?’ I skewed my head slightly, enjoying the moment of being the giver of a question.
‘No you can’t, I’ll do all the questions if you don’t mind.’ The detective’s level of irritation moved up a notch.
‘Keep your shirt on officer, the only reason I asked is because if you were as old as I am with a prostate problem, sometimes half a mile can determine whether you arrive home with wet or dry pants. Not always. At the risk of incurring your wrath by asking another question, did you ask them why they were behind the gents’ toilet yesterday morning? Because if you didn’t I can tell you why. They meet up there quite frequently to smoke before going to school. I’ve told them twice this week that I would tell their parents.’
‘And did you tell their parents?’
‘Of course I didn’t. Had no intention of doing so. I don’t have a clue where they live. I just thought if I ticked them off they might think twice about what they were doing. Janet was right.’
‘Who is Janet?’
‘My wife. She always said I would get myself in trouble and it looks like she was right! Even from the grave. Damned irritating; ironic really, you see she died of lung cancer. That’s why I went to the trouble of trying to put those young girls off smoking.
About the author
Robin short stories have appeared in CafeLit both on line and in print on a regular basis. He has also entered various writing competitions but has yet to get past being short listed.
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